; — TTO 

LOYAL MOUNTAINEERS: 



S 635 
29 
908 
J73 
py 1 



OR, 



) Guerrilla's Doom. 



A WAR DRAMA, 

{IN THBEE ACTS) 



d* if* ouster. 

RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED TO THE GRAND ABBT OF THE REPUBLIC. 
REVISED EDITION. 



St. glllnms, m.: 

E. A. MORTON, PRINTER. 
1873. 



LOYAL MOUNTAINEERS: 

OR, 

The Guerrilla's Doom. 



A WAR DRAMA, 

(ZZV THBEE ACT 8) 



BY 

*. If. CUIiVHK. 



3*f 



RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED TO THE GRAND ARMY OF THE REPUBLIC. 



REVISED EDITION. 



St. §ilbatta, &ti 

E, A. MORTON, PRINTER. 
1873. 



V 



*Pxi 



1 



Entered according to act of Congress in the year 1873, 

By J. N. CULVER, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



ALL BIGHTS RESERVE ». 




CAST OP CHARACTERS, 



UNIONISTS, 



Mr. Marks ..A Tennessee Farmer . 

William Marks „ Son of Mr, Marks, in Union army. 

Walter Greenwood Union Spy. 

John Steel.: Union Soldier. 

Robert Davis . ** 

Pat CTDoHERTr , *' 

Sam Hannibal Con traoand. 

Col. Barker , Commanding Union Regiment. 

Lieut, Green Adjutant " *« 

Capt. Dunbar Commanding Union Company. 

Aiice Marks , Daughter of Mr Marks. 

Clara Steel Sister to Fred Steel. 

Widow Powers... , ■. Tennessee Lady. 

Mart Powers , Widow Powers 1 Daughter. 

CONFEDERATES, 

Fred Steel.... - Chief of Guerrillas. 

Sam Smith Guerrilla. 

Jacob Kopfbach (Conscript) , " 

Joe Blake (Greenwood in disguise) ** 

George Mack... -..., ., ...Rebel Guard. 



COSTUMES. 

Mb. Marks— Hunting. Wm. Marks— Private Soldier. Walter 
Greenwood— 1st. Disguised as Guerrilla? 2d. Captain; 3d. Prison? 
4th. Disguise; 5th. Captain. John Steel— Prison. Robert Davis—' 
1st. Prison; 2d. Private; 3d. Prison; 4th, Private. Pat O'Dohekty — 
Private. Sam Hannibal— 1st. Plantation; 2d. Soldier. Col, Barker,. 
Capt. Dunbar, Adjutant, &c, equipped according to regulations. 

Alice Marks— 1st. Mourning; 2d. Traveling; 3d. Bridal. Clara 
Steel— 1st. Mourning; 2d. Traveling. Widow Powers and Mary 
Powers— Home. 

Fred Steel— 1st. Red Flannel Shirt and Light Gray Pants; 2d. Ligfet 
Gray Coat and Pants. Sam Smith, Joe Blake and Jacob Kopfbach— 
Flannel Shirt and Gray Pants, Geo. Mack— Gray. 



PROPERTIES. 

Pistols', Revolvers, Dirks and Knives (no guns or swords), for Guer- 
rillas. 1 Table, 4 Chairs, for Home Scene. Basket of Work for Mis. 
Powers. Old Army Blanket for John Steel. Ammunition and Colors 4 
for Regiment. Candles. Basket of Crackers and Water Proof Cloak 
for Aunt Nancy. Newspaper for Mary Powers, One package of largt? 
Envelopes and 6 Canteens. 



STAGE DIRECTIONS. 

(Actor supposed to be on stage, facing audience.} 

Exits and Entrances.— R, means tight ; L, left ; C, center at hack / 
1 E, 1st entrance; 2 E, 2d entrance; 3 E, 3d entrance. 

Relative Positions on Stage.— R, means right ; L, left ; G f center f 
R C, right of center ; L C, left of center. 



LOYAL MOUNTAINEERS; 

OR, 

ACT I. 

Scene First.— Wood or Mountain Scene— Fred Steel and his Gang 
of Guerrillas discovered Playing Cards, Smoking, and Drinking— 
41 We Won't Go Home Till Morning." 

Fred Steel.— Well, boys, we must hurry up our talk- 
ing ; for you know I am off before light to-morrow morn- 
ing. 

Jacob Kopfbach.-— Yah, das ish so, but we fellers 
vants to drink your goot health pefore you goes. 

Fred Steel. — Yes, boys, I am going to leave you; yet, 
if I don't like it at Libby, I shall come back again. But, 
before we break up, I want you to elect a new Captain. 
I want you to put in a man who won't be afraid to hear a 
woman yell, either; for sometimes they have tried to 
bother us when we have been sort of looking over their 
houses. I have thought Sam would make a good one. 
What do the rest of you think ? 
All of the Guerrillas call for Sam Smith, Captain Smith, &c, &c. 

Sam Smith. — I don't know what to say, boys ; I am no 
speech maker ; but I didn't onc't think you would appint 
me Capum ; there js men here as has got more larnin' than 
I has, but, if you want me, I'll sarve and I never will ask 
one on yer to go where I won't. 

All the Guerrillas exclaim : ' ' Good, good t Hurrah for Captain Sam. ' ' 
—All cheer. 

Fred Steel. — We have been together, boys, for over 
two years, and there is not a man here but what can count 
his stamps by the thousand; and, while we have been 



8 

helping ourselves, we have been supporting the i4 Bonnie 
Blue Mag." I received a letter of commendation from 
Gen. John Morgan, to-day, with my Colonel's commission. 
He says that our company has been the most successful of 
any under his command, and that he wishes he had more 
such men. So don't let a chance slip to strike a blow for 
Southern rights. To be sure, we have suffered — all brave 
soldiers must. We have lost many good men by these so- 
called "Loyal Mountaineers," who are nothing but cowards 
at best, and thanks be to Capt. Sam Smith's Bangers that 
the country is rid of some of them. 

Jacob K. — Yah, if I ever get a glimds of dem Loyal 
Mountaineers, mine got in himmel how I makes shoot at 
um. 

Sam Smith. — Only one man now lives that 1 really 
dread, and that is Old Marks. I think I've seen him onc't, 
but don't know him. I seen an old man with long white 
hair and whiskers, and if I had had my gun, I would have 
known, sure. 

Fred Steel. — Sam, I don't want Old Marks killed. 
You know we went to his house in the night, and got 
about ten thousand dollars in gold, put the old woman and 
Charlie out of the way, and I have Alice down to Widow 
Powers'. We burnt up the old man's house, and I guess 
on the whole he has got his pay for his Yankee talk. 

Sam Smith. — Yes, I know all that ; and we thought the 
old man was dead, too ; but here he has been prowling 
round like a hyena, and has murdered sixteen of our best 
boys. I think he ought ter be put out of the way. 

Fred Steel. — You are Captain how, and will do just as 
you choose after I am gone ; but I wish we could take 
him prisoner — and then don't you see I could make him 
give his consent to my marrying Alice ? 

Sam Smith. — There is somethin' in that, Colonel ; and 
I will promise you that we will take him alive, if possible ; 
but if I get sight on him, he's my meat, dead or alive. 

Jacob K. — Veil we's must get vay off from here pooty 
quick or w^e's won't make some honest greenbacks to- 
night. 

Fred Steel. — I know, Jacob, but I want to chat with 
you a little before I go, and we want to drink Captain 
Sam's health, too. You know this Yankee whisky is tip- 
top. How that chap did bellow when I popped him over 
and took his team and barrel of whisky. 

Jacob K. — Mine Gott what schnapps dat ish, vat a pedy 



there ish so leetle. petter pe zwie, drie forty parrels of it. 
Toys, dish ish your last night mit Colonel, so I says we'll 
all drink his goot health, den Captain Sam's goot health, 
den mine ; make reaty. 

Here ish to de Colonel who's name ish Steel, 
He goes avay now, dat ish aus ge speil. 
(All drink.) 

Here ish to Capnm Sam Smit who leads us mit a fight, 
As we go through the Yankees houses in ter dead of night. 
(All drink.) 

Here ish to Missh Alice Marks vat de Colonel vants for f row, 
If her old tuyful daddy don't raise one pig row. 
(All drmk.) 

Here ish to Jacob Kopfbach, dat ish me, 
I fights mit Sam Smit in East Tennessee. 

Fred Steel.— Now, boys, here is one for you. May 
you ever prove as true to your new Captain as you have to 
me. Since our company has been organized we have sup- 
ported ourselves from the Yankee army. When we first 
started there were only six of us. Now we have over one 
hundred. We have taken all our horses from the Yankee 
army, and nearly all we have came from them. Gen. 
Morgan writes me that there are twenty-three hundred 
men in the whole regiment , and all that he has ever had 
from the South was twenty-seven army saddles— his 
horses, clothing, arms and ammunition, having been taken 
from the Yankees. 

Sam Smith. — Colonel, do you know where Old Marks is 
now? 

Fred Steel.— No, I can not tell, but I think he is over 
the other side of the mountain. I am going down to 
Widow Powers' to-night to try and persuade Alice to go 
to Richmond with me. How like a fool she behaves. She 
shall be my wife, sooner or later. 

Jacob K. — Vats te tuyful te use to botterin mit das gal. 
You vants a vife pout so much ash te man in ter moon 
vants a new hat. And the tyful himself couldn't stop her 
from marrying mit that spy Valter Greenwot. And how 
is she going to marry mit both of you ? 

Fred Steel. — Greenwood is far from here in the Army 
of the Potomac, and Alice Marks can not see him. If he 
is brought to Libby while I am in command, won't I have 
some sport ? [Looks at his watch.] Well, boys, we must 
part. I am bound to see Alice before I go. Here, Captain 
[Gives him his Revolver], take this as a present. 



Sam Smith.— Thank'e, Colonel, I'll try and make good 
use on't. I suppose you will cross the river in our new 
boat, as the bridges are all burnt ? 

Fred Steel. — Yes, I told Frank that I should be there 
to.night, and he must have everything ready for me. 
Gen. Morgan will have a horse for me on the other side. 
Now, Captain, I have one request to make of you, and 
that is that you let Jacob go with me to Richmond. I 
will send him back again soon after I get there, and I 
would like to have you and some of the men go down to 
Widow Powers' with me. 

Sam Smith. — All right, Colonel, Jacob can go with you, 
and I will take some men and see you safe across the 
river. 

All exit K, but Jacob. 

Jacob K. — Yah, I am going mit Colonel Steel to Rich- 
mond. Dash is all right. I fites mit Sam Smith, not 
pecause I vants to, put pecause I can't gits away. Mebby 
I dont petter stay here, mebby I gets away mit Colonel 
Steel and finds my b rudder in de Yankee army, den I 
goes and fights mit Siegel. 

Exit K. Enter Old Marks L. 

Marks. — Alone, alone, all, all alone ! Two years ago I 
was happy — happy as any man in East Tennessee. How 
is all changed ! Then I was rich — now I have nothing, 
not even a crust of bread ! Then I was happy with my 
family ; I had honor among my fellow men ! Why this 
change ? All because I loved the Old Flag. When the 
cry of war arose, what was I to do? Should I see that 
flag under which I had lived and prospered trailed in the 
dust? Should I see my country ruined, and her just laws 
destroyed ? Nay ; should I be a willing instrument in this 
work of vandalism ? I saw but one course to pursue, and, 
though it has cost me dear, I thank God that he has given 
me strength to pursue it thus far. How fearful the cost 
of loyalty! My house burned, my wife murdered, my 
eldest son hung, my youngest driven away, my daughter 
nowhere to be found, and myself beaten and left for dead ! 
But my time had not come. I took a solemn vow of 
vengeance, and sixteen guerrillas have fallen before my 
steady aim in atonement of my wrongs. The debt is not 
paid yet. I feel that I shall see my daughter soon. I 
hear that she is somewhere in this vicinity. [Crosses the 
stage.] I must try and find out what that party of guer- 
rillas over there are planning. I dare say, they are trying 



to find me, or murder some Union man. [Goes and looks 
out at R.] I have been following you for three days, and 
yod are one less than when you started What! Fred 
Steel a guerrilla? 'Twas you, then, who led the gang that 
murdered my wife and child. You who told me that you 
■should never aid the Southern cause. Villain ! you, too, 
shall die the death of a coward and traitor; but not yet. 
My revenge is sure. Ha! he comes this way. I must 
conceal myself. [Hides.] 

Enter Fred Steel and two Guerrillas 11. 3d E., and go out at L. 3 E. 
A;? soon as they pass off the stage, enter Waiter Greenwood It. 3 E. 
in disguise as a guerrilla. Mr. Marks sees ia;n. and rises to shoot, 
but Greenwood makes motions- to him not to. Ad. ances to Marks, 
and takes off his whiskers and hair. 

Mr. Marks.— What, Walter Greenwood? 

Walter G. — Yes, I am here. I have been here two or 
three weeks hunting for you, and i hardly know how I 
happened to see you now. We must talk fast, a.- the gang 
have camped near here, and may see us. 

Marks. — Can you tell me where my children are? 

Walter G. — Yes; William is in the Army of the Poto- 
mac, in the same regiment with me. Alice is with V\ iclow 
Powers, at the foot of the mountain, wh :re she was j u 
by Fred Steel as a prisoner; bat Mrs P nvers is as kind 
to her as a mother. Steel has gone tln-re to-night fcc se 
her, and, if possible, take her with him to Richmond. 

Marks. — Take her to Richmond ? 

Walter G. — Yes, Steel has received a commission 
Colonel. He has been assigned to Libby prison as com- 
mander, and starts to-night for Richmond. 

Marks. — I must go at once to my daughter, and save 
her from this murderers hands, if possible. 

Walter G. — You need not fear of her going with him. 
Tell Alice I will see her to-morrow ; but I must go back 
to camp now, or they will miss me. 

Marks. — When shall you return to your regiment? 

Walter G. — In two or three days. I have got to visit 
the Rebel camp once more, and then I am off. 

Marks. — Be cautious, Greenwood, and not run too great 
a risk. I am going to see my daughter, and then start for 
the Army of the Potomac, and find my only boy. This is 
my last night on this mountain. But I must avenge my 
wife's murder. Good-by. [Shaking hands.] Tell William 
that his father is alive and well, and will soon see him. 
[Exit Greenwood R. 3 E.] I must at once start for Mrs. 
Powers, and see my daughter, and, if possible, put an 



10 

end to Fred Steel's vile career. (Goes and looks out at 
K.) I see their camp now, and Greenwood is talking 
with them. Now for ray last shot on this mountain. 
(Takes aim and fires.) One more added to my revenue, 
and seventeen sneaking guerrillas gone t j their lonir home. 
[Looking.] Ah ! you are coining this way lor me, are 
you ? Good-by to Fred Steel's guerrillas and the Cumber- 
land Mountains for the present. 



ACT I. 

Scene Second.— Home of Mrs. Powers— Tables, Chairs, &c, Ac- 
Mrs. Powers, Mary Powers and Alice Marks talking. 

Alice. — Mrs. Powers : I have, been thinking all this 
evening that I should again see my dear father ; but I 
have feared that he would be murdered by Fred Steel's 
gang of outlaws. It is nearly midnight, and I must retire, 
lean not sleep lately. I can't help thinking of that 
dreadful night when mother and Charley were so brutally- 
murdered, and our home laid waste, by the hands of 
one we supposed our best friend. 

Mrs. P. — Alice, clear, don't talk about that to-night, 
for you know it always makes you sick ; but you are get- 
ting stronger now, and must try and persuade yourself 
that it was God's will, and all for the best. I know it was 
terrible and wicked on the part of Fred Steel to take such 
a bloody course, but it is done and can not now be helped. 
Alice, I think you will again see your father and brother. 

Alice. — It is my constant prayer that I may ; but father 
has such bitter enemies that I believe if he were to come 
here to-night, and the Guerrillas should know it, they 
would kill him before my eyes ; but not until they had 
passed over my dead body. 

Mrs. P. — Come, come, Alice, don't talk any more to- 
night ; you are tired, and I am afraid you will get excited. 

Alice. — I know it, kind friend, but I can't help it. To 
think that Fred Steel, that detestable coward, should act 
such a part. And then imprison me here, as he supposed ; 
but, thank God, I could not have fallen into kinder hands. 
And then to come here and talk to me of love ; if I dared 



II 

do it, I would send his soul before bis Maker. What if 
Fred Steel should lind out that you were a strong Union 
woman and all of your family loyal, and that you were 
1 elping Union prisoners across the lines almost every 
day, and that this house was pointed out to escaped pris- 
oners from nearly all the Southern prisons? 

Mrs. P. — Alice, please be more careful ; you must re- 
member not to speak of that again aloud. With God's 
help we will keep it a secret, and as long as I have a crust 
of bread in the house, just so long shall I be happy to give 
it to the "Boys in Blue." 

Mary. — Come, Alice, we will now retire and get some 
rest; you know we can not tell what the morrow will 
bring forth. I dare say Fred Steel will be here to look 
after your welfare and see that you do not escape. I 
wonder where Sam is; he has not gone to bed yet? You 
know we sent him out about 8 o'clock to see if there were 
any escaped prisoners to help, and he has not returned. 

Alice. — We have, indeed, forgotten poor Sam. I fear 
some of those sneaking Guerrillas have suspected and 
watched him. 

Enter Sam, cautiously at R, 3 E, conducting an escaped Union prisoner. 

Sam. — Missus, dis yer poor sojeris starved mos to def; 
but he is feard you is Sesesh, and gwine to sen' him back 
to Castle Thunder or Castle Lightnin', or some other dref- 
ful place. I tole him don't be afeard. But, Miss Powers, 
vou must be careful, for Pspee Fred Steel is comin'. [Ex. 
U. 3 E. 

Mrs. P. — My d«ar boy, where have you come from? 
You need not be afraid to tell, for we are all your friends. 

Robert Davis. — Two weeks ago three of us got out of 
Salisbury prison. The two other boys were caught and 
killed in my sight. I had climbed a tree just soon enough 
to save my life. The Rebels tried to make them tell where 
I was : but they would not, and died with the secret in 
their breasts. I have traveled by night, sleeping where I 
could find a shelter, or lying out, with my eyes turned 
toward the bright stars, and dropping to sleep wondering 
if people there suffered so. I have had but very little to 
eat, and am sick and tired; yet I only pray to again be 
well so as to return to my regiment. 

Mrs. P. — Cheer up, my brave boy; you at last have 
found friends. Here you are safe. We will soon find a 
way to help you to freedom and safety. 



kind words cheer me. They are so 
I have heard for the last six 'months.. 
ife and strength. 



Mrs. P. — Mary, show this soldier where to conceal 
himself, and then see who is at the door. ' 

. otY. — Come this way. [Mary and Robert cross to R, 
Mi ;•;■ points ou'; 3 E J Torn to your right and follow the 
p ith until you come to an old shed, where you will liiiti 
Sara. Stay there until we call you. 

Exit Robert Davis at ~R. Loud raps eontincd at door at L. Mary opens 
the door' when Fred Steel enters. 

Fred S. — Good evening-, ladies; I am quite late. 
Mary. — What brings you here at this time of night? 
Fred Steel. — I have received a commission as Colonel 
for my brave deeds on these mountains, and have been 
ordered to Richmond to take charge of the Yankee board- 
ing house — what is better known as Libby Prison. And 
as I had a little time, I thought I would come and see my 
dear Alice before I lefc, hoping she would like to go to 
Richmond with me as Mrs. CoL Steel. 
Alice. — Never I 

Fred Steel. — Mrs. Powers, you and Mary can retire. 
I wLI keep guard over Alice until I call you. 
Mrs. Powers and Mary retire I*. 

Fred Steel.— [Advancing toward Alice.] Alice, my 
dear, why look so scornful? Be cheerful— come, come 
now, don't act so. You know I love you, [Takes hold 
of her arm. j 

Alice. — [Striking his hand away.] Unhand me, sir; 
your fingers are stained with my mothers Wood. 

Fred Steel. — Alice, don't speak of that again— let it 
pass ; you know I never intended to shoot your mother. 

Alice. — Why do you come to taunt me with your tales 
of love ? Yon who murdered my mother and brother, ancl 
tried to murder ray father. 

'Fred Steel — Alice I have often asked your forgiveness 
for the deeds of that dreadful night. 

Alice. — Fred Steel, I wish to ask you one question, and 
I want an honest answer. Why did you take such a 
cowardly part in this wicked Rebellion, going from house 
to house in the dead of night and murdering defenceless- 
people ? Old men and women, and even innocent children 
have died at the hands. of your iaendish gang- 



13 

Fred Steel. — Why ask me such questions? Did 1 not 
rid the country of nearly all the Yankee spies in this 
section. I would not harm a woman or a child, if they 
did not interfere with my business. Furthermore. I was 
promised a commission if I made way with these traitors. 
Honestly, Aiice, I have often wished I had not taken the 
course I have ; but it is now too late. 

Alice. — No, not too late ; burn your Rebel commission ; 
go North ; put on a blue coat, and help crush the greatest 
and most wicked rebellion the world ever saw. 

Fred Steel. — What! give up a Colonel's commission, 
and be a private soldier? ' 

Alice. — Yes; and be a man. 

Fred Steel. — Never! I yet will hold a commission 
still higher then Colonel. But I must not stop to talk 
with you ; I am going to start for Richmond at once, and 
you are going with me. So make haste. 

Alice. — Fred Steel. I am not going with you. 

Fred Steel. — It will be useless to resist, as I have a 
guard at the door, to help me if necessary. 

Alice.— For shame, Fred Steel! to bring your pack of 
villains ; t'is enough that you show yourself here. Had 
you the whole Confederate army at your command, I 
would not go. 

Fred S.—[ Advancing and seizing Alice by the arms.] 
Miss Marks, you are in my power, and I will make you 
my wife, by fair means or foul. 

Mr. Marks enters cautiously from L 3 E, advances to R and. seizes Steel 
and sends him to L C. 

Alice. — [Rushing forward and embracing her father.] 
Father! Father! 

Marks. — Villain ! we have met at last, face to face, and 
now for my revenge. 

Fred S.— Old Man, I have come to make a wife of that 
girl, and am going to do it ; if you interfere you are a dead 
man. [Whistles.] 
Enter two guerrillas from R 3 E, and seize Mr. Marks. 

Bind him fast, boys, and take him to camp. Do what you 
please with him. 

Marks. — Fred Steel, I am on your track. You are 
doomed to die the death of a miserable, sneaking traitor. 

Fred S. — [Pointing his revolver at Marks.] Silence, 
you old fool, or I'll put a hole through you. 

Alice. — [Stepping in between Steel and her father.] 
Shoot ! shoot ! if you dare, you villain. You are a 



14 

coward ; you dare not shoot. Stained with blood as your 
hands are, you dare not murder me'. Injure one hair of 
my father's head, and you will not go from this house 
alive. 

Fred S. — Not quite so smart. You can't scare anybody. 
[Advances.] Come, hurry up, the guard at the boat will 
think we are never coming. [Advances and seizes Alice.] 
Come, boys, take the old man along. 

A lick. — Help ! help I I can not, I will not go ! Unhand 
me, villain. 

Enter Robert Davis and Sam at R 8 E, who at once seiac the guard 
holding Mr. Marks, disarm and drive them off the stage at R. Re- 
enter Sam, who points revolver at Fred Steel — Steel releases Alice. 

Alice. — Not yet, Sam. he is not fit to die. [Pointing to 
Fred Steel.] Go, sir, your presence is loathsome. 

Exit Sam at R, 3 E. 

Fred S.— Who is this nigger and that escaped prisoner? 

Alice. — Go, sir, and ask no questions. 

Fred S. — [Ii< tiring slowly.] Young lady you will be 
fearfully sorry for this gross insult. You have defeated 
me this time. I shall leave my Company in trusty hands, 
and they will deal with you as you deserve. As for your 
old father there, he can not escape my vengeance — he 
must and shall yield to the will of Fred Steel's Rangers. 
He can not cross the river now, the bridges are all burned, 
and there is but one boat, and that we use, and no one 
else. I have a trusty man in charge of it, so I will bid 
you good-by for the present. My revenge is sure. 

Exit Fred Steel R, 3 E. 

Marks. — Gone— and Old Marks' curses follow you, 

Alice.— Dear father, what shall we do? I do not fear 
Fred Steel, or his gang, but I do feel so lonesome without 
you. Let us go to Knoxville. Mrs. Powers wishes to go 
at once, and we shall be so happy there. 

Marks.— No, daughter, I can not go to Knoxville. I am 
going north to find William. We can see each other but 
a short time, for I must start to-night. 

Alice. — I can not say "no," although it is hard to part 
with you so soon. 

Marks. — Yes, I must go this very night; but how can 
I cross the river? 

Alice. — I will get a canteen of whisky and drug it.. We 
will send Sam ahead, and he can get the guard drunk who 
has charge of their boat. Then you can cross the river, 



15 

and very soon find friends, for you know just what hou^e 
to go to for help over there. YVe will go at ouee and 
prepare for your departure. 

Marks. — Where is Sam? We m^st see him and make 
arrangements at once, for I am going to take him with 
me. "Sam!" "Samuel!" 

Enter Sam at L, 1 E. 

Sam. — Yes, Massa, I's here. Whar is de big Steel, am 
he done gone ? Dem Grillus come close to de shed but 
they did'nt found the sojer or me. 

Makks. — Yes, Sam, Steel has gone, and you and I are 
going North to-night. We will go and see William and 
the soldiers. Don t you want to go ? 

Sam. — Yes, Massa, I wants to go ; but who will take 
keer of Miss Alice ? 

Alice.— I am going to Knoxville to-morrow with Mrs. 
Powers, to stay until father gets back. We have made all 
the arrangements. You and the soldier are to go first and 
get the boat at the river, and then father will come. He 
Avill go down the river about a mile, and take you and the 
soldier on board, and convey you to a place of safety. 

Sam. — I's gwine for to be a soldier. I's gwine to be a 
Colored Kegiment, and have a brass coat wid blue buttons 
all over it. I guess Mr. Lincum will be glad when he 
hears I's coming. I golly what what would hab become 
of dis country if dis yah niggah never had no mammy ? 
Exit L, 3 E. 

Marks. — Come, Alice, I must be going, Sam will be 
ready in a lew minutes. 
Exit at L, 3 E. 



ACT. I. 

Scene Third.— Enter Sam and Robert Davis at L, 1 E, 

Eobt. D — Come, Sam, hurry up; we shan't get there 

to-night, unless we go faster. 
Sam. — I's hurryin fast as I can, You see, Massa, I don't 

want to found any dem GrilJas, cause we haint got no time 

to stop and kill 'em. 

Lightning flashes and thunder heard, which very much frightens Sam. 



Robt. I). — What ails you, Sam, hurry up. we shall get 
wet if we don't look out. It is going to raiu, and I am 
afraid we won't get to the boat and get that whisky into 
the guard before Mr. Marks comes. [Exit at R, 1 E.j 
Enter Mr. Marks and Alice at L, 1 E.— Lightning and thunder at inter- 
vals. 

Alice. — This is a dreadful night, father; but I am happy 
to think you are to be safe soon. 

Marks. — Yes, I rejoice to think that I shall soon breathe 
the air of freedom. Sam is a trusty boy, and I have no 
fear from him. 

Alice. — I have no fear from him; but I am fearful that 
we have been watched by the Guerrillas. Hist! I can 
hear' them now. Oh ! let us hurry. (Exit atR, 3 E.) 
Enter Guerrillas at L, 1 E. 

Sam S — I am sure I saw Old Marks and Alice come out 
of the house, and come this way. We must have Old 
Marks this very night, and that nigger too. I just want 
to get hold of his black carcass. I'll fix him. See ! (All 
look out at R.) There goes Old Marks and Alice ! They 
are going for our boat. Look clown to the river. That 
nigger has unloosed the boat! Where is the guard? 
They must have killed him. Come on, boys. (All exit at R.) 
Shouts heard outside of "Shoot him," Shoot the gal, and the Nigger, 
if you can't take them alive" — One shot heard— Scene rises show- 
ing Mr. Marks in hoat crossing river— He fires one shot and shouts, 
" Old Marks is safe! "—Alice enters at 1st R. E., kneels, clasps her 
hands, exclaims: "Saved! Saved!" — Back scene rises showing 
Goddess of Liberty.— Tableaux— Saved. 



17 
ACT II. 

Scene First. — Woods- Soldiers on picket duty — Pat O'Doherty, Sam 
Hannibal, Walter Greenwood, Mr. Mark's, William Marks, and 
others.— Song— "Just Before the Battle." 

Walter G. — Corporal, I guess you had better take the 
men and go out a little nearer the Rebel line, and should 
you see or hear any thing that would lead you to think they 
Intend to give us battle, report the same to me at once. 

Pat. — Yis, Corporal, fall in your mln to onst, and Pat 
O'Doherty will bring up the rare. I will be on the look- 
out that none ov um lag behind, and as sure as a Johnny 
spakes a loud word, I'll be afther reportin' to Captain 
Grain wood. 

Corporal. — Fall in, Guard. 

Men all fall in except Mr. Marks and William Marks. 

Sam H. — De Lord bress my soul, Massa Greenwood, is 
you gwinc to hab a battle here? 

Walter G. — It looks so now, Sam ; but I thought you 
were anxious to see us pitch into the rebels. 

Sam. — Yes, Massa, an so I is ; but can't I wait till de 
sun shines, it would be mighty dark seein'you shoot now. 

Pat. — Sam Hannibal, yes kin come along wid me, an I 
don't think ye nade be throbled wid fare while under me 
spishal protecshin. 

Sam. — Yah, hah ; dis yer chile aint afeard to go wid you ; 
you's a man after my own heart, and if de Kebble sojers 
come when we git dan, I guess dey will be sorry. 

Walter G. — Yes, Sam, you go with Pat. I shall not 
need you here. Now don't run or get frightened, but keep 
close to Pat. 

Corporal drills his squad a little, and marches them off at R, 3 E. 

Marks. — Well, boys, here L am, free from the hands of 
Fred Steel's band, and where I feel that I can strike one 
more blow at the heart of treason. 

William. — Yes, father, I am happy to see you and have 
you so near me ; but you are too old to try to march with 
us day by day, and suffer the exposure of a soldier's life. 

Marks. — My dear boy, you little know what privations 
are. I have lived through two years of camp life such as 
would make yon faint hearted. No, no, my boy, don't 
think that of me until you see me lag behind on the .march. 

Walter G. — I guess you hadn't better try to talk camp 
life with your father, for he can tell you more about it 
than you know yourself. 

William- — I know he has had a hard time, and that is 
just the reason why I think he needs rest. But if he feels 
it his duty to go as a soldier. I have nothing more to say. 



IS 

Marks. — Just as long as Free! Steel's band of Guerrillas 
exist, just so long will Old Marks be on their trail — be it 
in the Army of the Potomac or on the mountains of East 
Tennessee. I feel that a blow here will do just as much 
good as to shoot one of his gang. 

Walter G. — Wherever a blow is struck at treason, it is 
felt the whole length of the line. But, Mr. Marks, you 
are not free from Guerrillas here. Our regiment has been 
harrassed by Mosby's gang for more than three weeks, 
and I fear more from them to-night than from the Itebei 
troops. Our regiment sleep on their arms night after 
night to be in readiness for just such an attack. I gave 
the Corporal strict orders to keep a sharp lookout at the 
outer picket post, and if he should see any Guerrillas or 
anything thae would lead him to think there was to be an 
attack by Rebel troops or Guerrillas, to send a man here 
at once. 

William. — Don't you think, Waiter, that we had better 
try and get a little rest? We were up all last night, and 
have had but little sleep to-day. 

Walter G. — I have been thinking of that myself, for I 
know we have a trusty guard at the outer post, and we 
should be warned -soon enough were we all asleep. 

Marks, — Hark ! I thought I heard the pickets firing. 
There goes another shot. Our boys are having a skirmish. 

Walter G. — If there is any trouble, we shall hear of it 
soon, for the Corporal will either send a man or come 
himself. 

Enter Pat O'Dolierty and Sam Hannibal at It, 2 E, all out of breath. 

Pat. — Faith, an' yer honer, Captain, au,' an,' the guer- 
rillas is afther us, the whole of Mosby's army. And the 
Corporal towld me to be afther comin' here and tellin' yes 
at onst, and, by the howly Moses, sich a time as I have 
had a gettin' here. In the fust place, I made a mistake 
and run the wrong way intirely ; then I got twisted about 
and run the other way ; thin I wint back and axed the 
Corporal what he wanted I should bring him, when he 
sint me away, and told me to tell the Captain that Mosby 
was fightin' him, and that you must sincl a man to camp to 
onst and tell the Colonel that there was trouble on the 
picket line, and for the Colonel to send word to the Gin- 
eral, and the Gineral to tell the men to be ready to fight. 
And now, Captain, I want to be the man to go and tell 
the Colonel, for I know all about it. [Spatting his hand.] 
Be out of that, you skater, an' would you be afther suck- 



hrg the biood of Pat O'Doherty when he is on important 
business? Now for the Colonel's tent. [Exit Pat at L, 3 
E, in haste.] 

Sam.— Gapura, dis lieah niggak's gwine to keep close to 
Pat. Exit L, 3 E. 

Enter Robert Davis at R, 2 E, hi kaste, wounded. 

Rgst. D. — Captain, we have been surprised by a gang 
of Mosby-s Guerrillas, our boys fought like tigers but 
they are nearly all killed or taken prisoners. I got a little 
scratch but that is nothing if we can only get away. 

Several shots heard at R — Three Union pickets hack on stage from R — 
Volley fired at R— Unksn pickets fail, Guerrillas rush in, Walter 
G reeii wood and Mr. Marks are taken prisoners and taken off stage 
at R— William Marks taken prisoner but is rescued by Union troops 
—Guerrillas commence robbing the dead and wounded, making 
^remarks about what; they find, <fcc — Volley of musketry at L — 
Some of the Guerrillas fall, the rest retreat off stage at R — Enter 
Union Regiment at charge bayonets at L and form Tableau. 



ACT IE 

•SclLS'E: Secosd.— Same as Scone I, Act 2d— Curtain— No osie to be seen 
—Soon Sam cautiously makes his appearance at L, loudly calling 
for Patrick CTDoherty, advances te center of stage and stops. 

8am.— I aren't feard to be here alone, but Massa Green- 
wood tole me to keep with Patrick-; but de Lor bress my 
«oul, I couldn't no more keep up wid him than I could 
cotch chain lightning by de tail. He's a drefful runnist. 
•Jes s© soon as he tell Massa Greenwood dat de Grillas 
was a comin he run fer de Kernul's tent and tole him, and 
I tried mighty hard to keep wid him, but wan't runnist 
sniff to keep nigh him, and fore dey got fru fightin' I lost 
sight ob him, and now whar is he? Be grillas hain't got 
him prisoner, kase he didn't ran in dat direction. He 
anus be round here somewkar. Massa Greenwood tole 
me to keep clos to Patrick O'Doherty until he wanted me, 
-and now I mus found • him. (Loudly calling,) Patrick 

O -'Doherty, Pos' No. 15th amendment, -double quick, 

march. 

lEnter Pat at R, 2 E, slowly; with coat very badly torn, and otherwise 
generally demoralized., but does not see Sam at first. 



Pat. — Am I Patrick O'Dohirety entirely, or am I his 
ghost? Strange that the boys should run and lave me 
alone. What the divil do they think to run and lave me 
to fight the whole Guerrilla army, and Samuel Hannibal, 
too, he was scart and run, and even after Capum Grain- 
wood towld him to keep clost to me. Just a minute ago 
I thought I heard Patrick O'Doherty's name mintioneck 
I wonder what it could mane ? I must look around a 
little and see if I can find any of the boys. I am not at 
all frightened, and can whip all the Ribels in a batch, if 
they will only come on. 

Goes and looks out at L, when he bears a clog bark or a pig squeal, 
which frightens him, and be leaps back on the stage— All this lime 
Sam is very much pleased to see the fun go on, hut does not make 
a loud noise. 

Pat. — It must be a bloody Guerrilla, and I must be 
afther getting out of this intirely, or I shall be down tc 
Lib by prison before I want to go. 

He turns and starts to run, but is so near Sam that be bits him hard 
enough to knock both down, 

Pat. — Why the divil didn't ye tell me that ye wanted 
me to ground arms, and not be afther executing yer orders 
until afther yer had given 'em. 

Sam. — Lor' bress my soul, Pat, how easy we df:l parade 
rest. 

Pat. — Divil a bit ov rest did I git, but plenty of parade, 

Sam. — Patrick, what made you run off and leave me 
when Massa Greenwood tole you to stay wid me ? 

Pat. — Capum Gradnwood didn't tell me to stay wid yon. 
He told you to stay wid me. Now why didn't you obey 
orders ? If yes keep on disobeying orders Sn that way r 
Capum Grain wood will be afther rejucing you to the ranks 
of a private, and then yes will have to obey orders. But 
come, Samuel, we must find the Regiment. I don't see 
how I come to get astray. 

Sam. — Patrick, Massa Greenwood and Msssa Marks are 
both prisoners. I helped Massa William to get away, but 
I could not help de other two, I was feared de Grillas- 
would come back ; but I 'spect dey am done gone. Massa 
William feels drefful bad because his fader am taker* 
prisoner. 

Enter three Guerrillas, who chase Sam and Pal around the stage— Cur- 
tain drops.. 



ACT. 11. 

SCENE Third.— Libby Prison— Prisoners seated in groups on the floo? 
closely watched by Rebel guard. 

Bobt. 1). — Well, Johnny, what do you think of the 
rumor that is going round among the boys. They say 
there is to be an exchange of prisoners very soon. If so, 
you will be one to be exchanged, as you have been here 
longer than most of us, Then you can see your dear 
sister once more. 

John Steel.— No, no, Robert, I cannot believe the 
rumor, for weeks and months that story has been our only 
hope but now it is too late for me, very soon I shall be 
beyond the sufferings of this life and be with mother in 
that heavenly army and marching under the protection of 
the flag whose every star is a star of glory. BiV, I should 
dearly love to see dear sister Clara once more, and only 
know where brother Fred is. Then if I could see the 
glorious old stars and stripes once more it is all I ask. 

Robt. I). — Oh. Johnny, don't talk that way. This is 
the second lime I have been in a rebel prison and I am 
not going to give up yet. Our boys have not forgotten 
us yet and are doing all they can to get us out of here. I 
am going to get out of here and help take Richmond yet. 

John Steel. — Robert, I wish I could be as cheerful as 
you are. But here I have been for a long time ; at first I 
was cheerful, and tried to have courage ; but as the news 
of victory after victory for the Union army come to the 
ears of the Rebels, the harder they have been upon us, 
until nearly all that game here with me have starved to 
death, or been shot for some slight offence. 

Rebel Guard, Geo. Mack. — (Striking John.) Shut 
up yer head, you detestable Yankee, yer no need ter come 
ter war if yer hadn't wanted ter. 

John Steel. — I know that, sir ; but I would not stay 
away when such as you were engaged in trying to destroy 
the liberty our grandfathers fought for. I have but a 
short time to live, but with my dying breath will I rejoice 
that I have remained true to my dear dead mother's last 
request of loyalty to the glorious old flag. 

Marks. — Brave boy; should you live to get out of this 
hell hole, you will be proud to say that, tempted by the 
devil as you were, loyalty triumphed, while he (pointing 
to Rebel Guard,) taints the very earth with treason, and 
to his dying day can not forget that he has been a traitor 
to the old flag. 



Walter G. — Boys, keep up good courage. We shall 
not stop here long, starved and abused as we are. These 
wretches can not keep us here always. There is a good 
time coming, and that soon. 

Keb Geo. M. — Yes, yon-uns talk well, don't yer? But • 
I reckon you-uns will have some o' yer pluck taken out of 
yer "fore night, for we-un's new commander has come, 
and he won't stand none of yer Yankee slang. He's a 
goin' through the boardin' house purty quick, audi rackon 
most of you-uns will sing a different song when you see 
him. 

Enter Fred Steel li, 1 E. 

Fred Steel. — Hello, Yanks ! I reckon you are all glad 
to see me, and I suppose the Guard told you I was coming. 
Now I want you all to behave yourselves, and I won't 
hurt you ; but if you don't mind you will be sorry. I 
shall not have any candles burned in the night, as you 
might burn us all up, nor shall I have any reading going 
on, for I want you to keep thinking of your guilty crimes 
and what you are here for. [Looking to the Rebel 
Guards.] Now, Guards, do your duty like men, and if 
you see any of the Yanks disobey orders, either shooc 
*em or let me know of it, and I will take care of them. 
[Looking to John Steel.] Here, you villain, what are you 
doing? Didn't I just give orders not to have any reading- 
go on ? Give me that book. 

John S. — Please let me keep it; it won't do me any 
harm. It is the last gift of my dear mother who is dead. 
It is a Bible, sir, and I am sure there can be no harm in 
my reading it, 

Ered S. — Give me that book, you mudsill. 

John S. — Please let me keep it. I will not read it any- 
more. I will keep it in my bosom, aud no one shall see 
it. It has my name written in it by dear dead mothei\ 
She wrote it just as I started for the war, and told me 
always to keep it. So please don't take it away. I can 
not give it up. . 

Fred Steel knocks John down, takes the Bible, and throws it away . 

Fred S. — There, Yanks, now see if you can obey orders. 

Walter G. — Fred Steel, not content with murdering 
the loyal people of East Tennessee you seek this prison 
pen and practice your hellish designs on the weakest of 
us. 

Fred S.— Who speaks my name? What! Walter 
Greenwood ? 



Walter G. — Yes, Walter Greenwood speaks your vile 
name. 

Fred S — How glad I am to see you. How is Miss 
Alice Marks ? You don't see her very often now, do you ? 
Had you the least pride of a man you never would have 
crossed my path and stolen her from me. I once loved 
that girl, now I hate her; and now I swear it, she shall 
be my wife out of pure revenge. 

Walter G. — Fred Steel, I care not for your taunting 
words. As for Miss Marks, I never talked to her of love, 
except of her love for the old flag, that same flag you 
swore to defend, bui which you now trample in the dust. 
W T ith God's help I hope soon again to be under its protec- 
tion. 

Fred S. — Walter Greenwood, you are in my power and 
in my way. It was only a few weeks ago that I bid fare- 
well to your friends in East Tennessee. And I told them 
should you happen here, I would use the greatest care 
that you do not trouble the Southern cause any more. So 
prepare yourself (drawing a revolver,) for I am going to 
blow your brains out. 

Walter G. — Fred Steel, I thank God I am prepared to 
meet my Maker ; but you are not the agent that will send 
my soul into eternity. 

Fred S. — [Raising his revolver and taking aim.] What, 
what do you say, you spy? 

Walter G. -Fred Steel, you are a coward, and just as 
sure as you shoot, these starved men will tear you in 
pieces. We are human, and only ask to be treated as 
prisoners of war. We have borne our lot patiently, and 
have not been abused beyond endurance until you stepped 
your fiendish foot in here. Before we will submit to your 
outrages, there is not a man here but will give his life in 
defense of his rights. 

Fred S. — Greenwood, I acknowledge to being a little 
too hasty. I now announce that Walter Greenwood, the 
Union spy, will be shot at sunset to-morrow. Now, you 
Yanks, see if you can behave yourselves. I shall come 
and see you once every day, and I hope there won't any- 
thing happen to mar your happiness. As it is getting 
late, you must all retire. Guards, keep good watch to- 
night, and to-morrow we will see some fun. 

Marks. — Go now, you Guerrilla, you have done enough. 
You are not content with murdering my wife and child, 
but now seek the ruin of my only daughter. Old Marks 



24 

is yet alive, so beware. If 1 die by your bauds God will 
avenge my wrongs. 

Eked IS. — Old Marks? How came you here? You 
thought you had got out of my power when you stole my 
boat, didn't you ? But fortune favors me at every step, 
and if you were engaged in a just cause, you never would 
have been so unfortunate. 

Marks. — I am proud to say that I am fortunate, and 
that you are unfortunate in having such a black heart. I 
would not exchange places with you to-day. 

Fred S. — One more word out of your head, and I will 
blow your brains out. 

Marks. — Fred Steel, Iain prepared for that. You have 
done nothing else but murder for more than two years. 
It would take a man a lifetime to record all your vile acts, 
and do them justice. 

Fred Steel draws a revolver and fires at Mr. Marks— The ball only 
knocks. Marks' cap off, but hits John Steel in the neck. 

John S. — [Screaming and falling forward.] Oh! I'm 
shot ! I'm shot ! 

Marks. — Murderer! You are not satisfied with taunts and 

abuses, but must take the life of your own brother, who has 

been ashamed to own you. First, you take his Bible away, and 

not content with that, deliberately shcot him— and your angel 

mother looking down on you. Go, sir, before I kill you. I 

will tear you in pieces if you do not take your vile carcass out of 

my presence. (Advancing to front and center of stage where 

John Steel lies and lifting him partly up.) Jobnny, Johnny, 

dear, dear Johnny, have you got to die and leave us. 

John Steel, who has been raised from the floor, leans his head on Mr. 

Marks bosom, who is behind John— Walter Greenwood on the left 

— Fred Steel on the right near John— Prisoners all gather around 

John. 

John S. — Don't talk so Mr. Marks, he is my own brother. 
He didn't mean to shoot me. Had I told him who I was he 
would have been kind to me. Please hold my head for me. It 
is getting dark and my head is dizzy. 

Fred S. — Are you my brother John ? Is mother dead ? 

John S. — Yes. I am your brother; but very soon you will be 
alone. My strength is fast failing, Dear mother is dead. She 
died soon after we reached Boston. I enlisted at once on arriv- 
ing in Boston, and soon after coming to the front I heard of her 
death. Her last request to you was to remain true to the old 
flag. 

Fred S. — It is too late now. I am a Colonel in the Confed- 
erate army, and if you had told me who you were when I first 
came in, I^should have taken you out of here at once. I didn't 
mean to shoot vou. I am sorrv I did. 



John S. — Don't ice! bud, brother. I shall soon be 
better off. It was only an act of kind Providence to re- 
lieve me from my tortures. I should have lived but a few 
days. I will tell mother that you did not mean to shoot 
me, and that you are sorry. Come nearer, brother, I can 
not see you, it is so dark. Hark! oh, such sweet music. 
It is growing lighter now ; mother is coming to see us; 
we are at home now, brother; no more war. Come, 
mother, and let me kiss you. Sister Clara, what makes 
you look so sad ? mother is happy, and wants me to come 
to her. I am coming, mother. 

Prisoners ail point fingers in scorn at Fred Steel, who stands at E of 
*rage with folded arms— Back scene rises showing angel with arms 
outstretched toward John Steel.— Tableau— Mustered Out. 



ACT II. 

Scene Fourth.— Outside of Libby Prison— Jacob K. doing guard 
duty, walking in front of Prison. 

Jacob K. — Val, I ish here in Richmond. I ish put here 
to keep dat Yankee soldiers from getting avay. I vish I 
may hopen dat doors and let de poor fellah out, it ish too 
pad. All dey do ish to fight mit de flag vat dey alvays 
loved, and vat all de peoples all over de world don't like 
to meddle mit. My brudder Hans, he fights mit Seigle — 
I vish I might. Mabby I gets a chance to go to my brud- 
der, den I told him how 'de poor poys suffer here, den de 
Yankee harmy comes und let um all free. Dat ish goot. 
I never hurt no Yankee soldiers and I never vil. My gal 
she ashamed I fights mit Jeff. Davis. I told her I am 
shamed too ; but ven I gets avay den I fights mit de 
American heagle, den I feels petter. Hurrah mit de flag 
vat has got all de stars und stripes. 

He sees Corporal of the Guard coming— He goes up to the prison door 
and appears to be talking to the prisoners. 

Jacob K. — You just pe quit mit your noise or I makes 
a hole mit some of you. 

Enter Corporal at E, 1 E. 

Corporal, Geo. Mack. — Jacob, what is all this fuss 
about ? 

Jacob K. — Oh, it ish all right, dem Yanks is just having 
a fort of July, and I just tell dem to hush up. 

Corporal. — That is right, Jacob, make a hole through 



tJie first one you-ims get a chance at. I wis.h yon-tttis wa.* 
going to stay here longer, for I know you-ims is faithful. 

Jacob K. — Val I tries to do my tuty, put I goes avay 
to-morrow pack to Sam Srait In East Tennessee. I goes* 
putty near fair my frow lives. (Aside : Ven I gets one,) 
So I just asks you of you gets me furlough. 

Corporal. — I don't know Jacob, about that; we-uiis 
need all the help we-uns got, and Sam Smith is having a 
hard time. There is six good men going with you-un» 
and I don't think it will answer to let you-ims go now. 

Exit Corporal at R, 1 E. 

Jacob K. — It ish all up mit n>e now. I goes pack mis 
six goot men to keep guard over me, so I gets no chance 
to go mit the Yankees not yet, put I goes dat ish sure. 
[Looks out at K.] Hullo, who the tyful ish dish. Oh, it 
ish Aunt Nancy with some more tings for de poor soldiers. 
Goot old soul, how the poor poys love her. They would 
starve to death pefore now if it waif t for her. 

Enter woman R, 2 E, closely veiled, with a basket of crackers, news- 
papers, &c, — Guard takes it and passes the contents into the prison 
—Gives basket back to the woman. 

Jacob K. — Aunt Nancy, you must look out to-morrow 
night who gets the pasket for I goes vay in the morning, 
and the poor sojers would feel so pad if .Aunt Nancy 
should pe caught,- so look out. Goot-py, Got pless you. 

Shakes tiands— Exit Nancy at R, 2 E— Looking at his watch. 

Jacob K. — It ish almost vun o'clocks, then I goes off 
and some other feller comes. They always puts me here 
since I comes to Richmond cause they knows I am faith- 
ful. 

Enter Fred Steel at R, 2 E. 

Fred S. — Well, Jacob, is everything quiet to-night? 

Jacob K. — Yah, things ish always quiet when I am on 
guard. 

Fred S. — I am acting as officer of the guard to-night, 
you will soon be relieved and then you come to my head- 
quarters, as I want to give you some directions to take to 
Capt. Sam Smith. I shall be back to Tennessee in about 
three months. (Exit Steel at L, 2 E. 

Union prisoners begin to put their heads up out of the ground, look 
around, dodge back, and finally one crawls out and creeps off stage 
at L, 3 E, when Guard crys out: Post No. 7, one o'clock and all is 
well— More prisoners come up and creep off stage at R and L— 
After they have all come up, the relief comes around and relieves 
the Guard— As they pass off they discover the tunnel and at once 
give the alarm, when all is confusion.— Curtain, 



ACT. III. 

bv ;;s>: PtRST.— Woods— (iucri:iik{ camp— Walter Greenwood disguised 
as Joe Blake, a Guerrilla. 

Fred S, — Well, boys, I am glad to be with yon again. 
I did not like Libby at ail, and resigned my position there 
to return to these mountains once more. 

Jacob K. — Yah. and we isli glad too, the poys say they 
faave had tal times since we wash away. Since I comes 
pack we goes hungry 'some time, mabby py and py, we 
found some Yankees house den we gets some grub. 

Sam Smith, — Yes, that's so-; we havnt spotted any of 
them Yanks for nioreu a week, and when you was here 
we got plenty of choices at "eim 

Jacob K. — Yah, dat ish so. we have been thinking of 
giving up this company and go mit Ave or six together 
-and try it that ray. but just so soon as we gets all ready 
den we runs mit a squad dena Yanks, and it takes us all to 
tight mit inru and so we keeps together and keeps fighting, 
iind I found more den half the men vat we had when we 
goes avay kilt, so there is only a few left. 

Sam S. — I tell yer what 'tis, Colonel, we made money 
when we was up by Cumberland Gap, but after you went 
away the Yanks soon drove us out, and they have kept us 
on the move most of the time since. But we have got 
iots of horses since you have been away. 

Fkkb S. — I am sorry to hear that so many of my brave 
boys ave dead * I see some strange faces here, but dare 
say they are all right, and ready to fight for our black flag 
•and s if ike a blow for Southern homes. 

Sam S. — You see, Colonel, we was all so glad to see you 
feack that we forgot to say anything to you about it. Here 
as Joe Blake, j«st come from the Yankee army. He tells 
us that there will be hot work here soon. 

Fred S. —I knew that the Yanks were after us before, 
and they are bound to follow us until they shoot us all, so 
we must be on watch for them. 

Joe Blake.. — I only left Bum-side's army last week, and 
I tell you you have got to be sharp or they will go for you. 

Sam S. — By the way, Colonel, what ever became of that 
gal you used to think ^o much of and was going to marry ? 

FitED S. — She is in Xnoxville now, and we must plan 
some way to get hold of her before Burnside gets there, 
for Old Marks, his son, and that villain, Greenwood, are 
all with Burnside. and of course when they get to Knox- 



2% 
ville they will find her and send her North, and that Will 
be the last of her, as far as I am concerned. 

8am S. — Where is your mother now, Colonel, didn't she 
go to Knoxville? 

Fred 8. — i T es, she was there, but just before the war 
commenced she and my brother John went to Boston. 
She died there. She was full of Yankee patriotism and 
had a good deal to say about the old flag, the land our 
fathers fought for, and ail that sort of stuff, John was- 
just like her, and always said that if there was a war he 
should go North and enlist. He did so and died in Libby 
prison. My sister Clara, I suppose, is still in Knoxville, 
although I have not heard from her for more than a year. 

Joe B. — What about that gal. Get that fixed up some 
way. May be we can have a little fun out of it, Sam 
told me all about the old man Marks, so I know what you 
want. If we can only plan to get hold of her. 

Fred S. — I'll tell you, boys, what I think I'll do - r I will 
disguise myself and go to Knoxville and find out all I 
can. Then we shall know just what to do. 

Sam S. — No, Colonel, I don't think that will answer, for 
we are so near Knoxville that I am afraid they will mis- 
trust you, and we shall all be gobbled up. You would 
have to be there two or three days. We must do some- 
thing that won't take up so much time r for old Burnside 
is north of Loudon now. 

Joe B. I have it ;. we will write the gal a letter and 
sign Walter Greenwood's name to it. You see she knows 
that he is with Burnside and she will think it is all right.. 

Fred S. — What will you write 2 

Joe B. — Why most anything that will bring her out of 
Knoxville. Q Writing,] Let me see. [Reads aloud.}. 

" Miss Alice Marks: Burnside will fee m Knoxville next week, 
Meet me on Saturday in the woods just north of the four corner;-; on. 
the road that leads from Knoxville to Strawberry Plains. You may 
think this a strange request, but you can be of great service to the; 
Northern Troops, and i know you will esteem it a privilege to help- 
them. Meet me at sunset. There is a loyal family near by with whom. 
I have made arrangements for you to stop over night. Come alone, as 
we do not know whom to trust, and if you take any one with you we 
may have trouble. 

Your friend and protector, W, Gseejs-wood.." 

Joe B. — There, I reckon that will be sweet enough. 

Fred S. — Good ! I never should have thought of that- 
Now, Sara, will you take the job of giving that letter to* 
Miss Alice? Find where Mrs. Powers lives, give Alice- 
the letter, and come away before she has a chance to read 
it y as she may wish to ask you questions-. 



29 

Sam S.— Yes, Colonel; just the job I want, dnd I think 
the letter will bring her. I'll be back before morning, and 
Sunday I suppose we shall have a wedding. 

Exit Sam Smith at L, 2 E. 

Pred S. — Now, boys, four or five of you go up to 
Strawberry Plains and see how things look. Be back 
Saturday noon, sure. Jacob you sort of look out for 
things as you know the country so well. 

Exit a'.l at R— Tableau— Floral Decorations. 



ACT II L 

Scene Second. — Mrs. Powers' home in Knoxville— Mary Powers read' 
ing a paper— Mrs. Powers and Alice variously employed. 

Mary. — How dreadful it is to read of the sacrifice of so 
many lives, the destruction of so much property, and the 
desolation of our country by civil war. When will it end ? 
When will the South return to its allegiance? 

Mrs. Powers. — Mary, we have much to be thankful for. 
Our little home has been laid waste, but our lives have 
been spared, and we have found dear friends here. The 
war must close soon. The South can hold out but a little 
longer, and then we will return to our home and see what 
we can do toward repairing the waste of war, I fer- 
vently hope, too, that Alice may have her father and 
brother restored to her in safety. 

Alice. — Yes, my dear friends, it is my constant prayer 
that my dear father and brother will return alive. Oh, 
what anguish I have suffered during this dreadful war. 
But I am thankful that my lot is -no worse. How many 
loyal mountaineers of East Tennessee have gone to their 
long home. Still they were firm, and even to-day there 
are men on the mountains anxiously awaiting Burnside's 
arrival to strike a blow for loyalty. 

Mrs. P.— Thank God the time has about come, for Burn- 
side will soon be here. O, how many prayers of thanks- 
giving will go up to heaven when the fife and drum of the 
Northern army shall be heard in Knoxville. How many 
poor eouls will be ready to almost worship the soldiers 
who set them free from this little else than prison. 



Alice.— History will never record the many, .very many 
valuable lives sacrificed in our State. There is no section 
of the country where there have been such mean, con- 
temptible, bloodthirsty schemes resorted to as have here 
been practiced by the Guerrillas. They are not subject 
even to the lax military rule of the so-called 'Confederacy, 
and so they execute their wicked deeds without hindrance 
or fear of punishment, murdering little children, women, 
aged men, in fact every one unfortunate enough to fall into 
their hands. 

Mas. P. — When the Union army comes there will be a 
different order of things. It will be a happy moment 
when the loyal veterans march through our streets, the 
bands playing the tunes we used to hear, and the old flag- 
floating over all. What a load will be lifted from the true 
hearts of Tennessee when that time comes. Let us have 
a song. 

'Mary Powers or Alice Marks sings "The Star Spangled Banner '"—If 

Alice sings, Mary will go to the door and admit Clara Steel, also, 

repeat the lines following, substituting the word Alice for Mary. 

Mrs. P. — Yes, long may it wave. Those words never 

seemed so dear to me as they have since the dark days of 

this terrible war. 

Raps heard at the door at L— Alice goes and opens it and Clara Steel 
enters. 

Alice. — Dear Clara, I wish you liadrbeeu here just now. 
Mary has been singing that dear old song, "The Star 
Spangled Banner," and I believe it never sounded so 
sweet to me as now. 

Clara. — It is a soul inspiring tune. How I long to 
hear it played again by some martial band. 

Mary. — You will not have long to wait, for we have 
heard, very reliably, that the Northern troops will be here 
within a week. 

Clara. — Happy shall I be to see them. But Fred, alas ! 
will not be with them. Oh, if I could only see him long 
enough to tell him of mother's dying request, he could 
not continue in his present wicked work. I fear he is 
dead. The last I heard of him was through the papers, 
that he was in command of Libby prison. Then I read 
that he had gone from there. Where can he be now ? 

Alice. — You may yet see him. I do not think he is 
dead. He is your brother, I know, and as such you love 
him, and would be happy to see him give up his wicked 
course. 
Raps heard at the floor at, L— Mary goes and opens it— Enter Sam Smith. 



Sam S,— -Is Miss Alice Murks in? 

Alio:. — Yes. sir, that is my name; what do you wish? 
Sam S. — (Handing her a letter.) Here is a letter I was 
Requested to deliver to you, and to no one else. Some- 
thing private, ain't it? '[Exit Sam Smith at L, 2 E.] 
Alice opens the letter and reads it to herself several times, then looks 
around the room as if to see if any one is listening, when she readn 
it aloud, 

Alice. — (Laying the letter down.) What can that 
mean? What can lie want of me? Why it is nearly five 
miles there, and he wants me to come to-night. It is very 
strange. Where is the man who brought the letter? 
Mrs. Powers, what shall I do? 

Mes. P. — It is very strange. I don't see why he didn't 
come himself. Let me see the letter. [Takes the letter.] 
It looks like Mr. Greenwood's writing. I should almost 
be afraid to go, but still if you can be of any service to 
the Union troops you should surely go. 

Alice. — But he wants me to go alone. 

Clara. — You must not go alone. I will go with you. We 
will each take a pistol for use in case of need. I can con- 
ceal myself near you, and be- ready to help in case you 
need assistance. 

Alice. — I wish you would go with me, Clara, I am 
afraid to go alone. It will do no harm, as Walter's 
caution was ouly given through fear of being betrayed. 
He is very careful, and neglects no precaution. He has 
always taken care of himself when he has been alone. He 
has been many times within the Rebel lines, and never 
. has been detected yet. 

Mrs. P. — Well, girls, you must make haste. It is a long 
distance there, and you want to walk slow. 

Alice. — Let me get my things, and we will be off at 
once. I almost dread to go, the country is so full of Guer- 
rillas ; but they will not dare come so near Knoxville. 

■Exit all at L, 3 E.— Curtain. 



ACT III. 

Scene Third.— The same as Scene First, Act III. 

Fred S. — (Walking buck and forth.) I don't see what 
keeps Sam so long. He said that he would be back before 
morning-, and he has been gone three days already. I fear 
he has been gobbled up by some of Burnside's* scamps. 
[Drinks.] 

Jacob K. — Yah, it ish so. Mabby he run off mit your 
gal. I guess not, he be here fore long. You see, Colonel, 
the Yanks is all round, and a veller must look hout or he 
gets gobbled up. Then you know there is lots and lots of 
these Mountaineers that ish Yankee clear through to the 
pack pone. 

Joe Blake. — Yes, Jacob, it is a fact. And, although we 
claim that we are all right, we must confess that the 
people around these mountains have suffered more than 
in any section of the country. You know we hear almost 
every day of their leaving the mountains to join the 
Northern army. 

Fred S. — A man would think you were a full-blooded 
Yankee to hear you talk. 

Joe B. — I can't help that. I can not but admire their 
pluck. 

Jacob K. — Mine Got in hemmel vat ish dat nois. I hear 
sometings. Mabby somebody comes. 
They all take their pistols as if ready for action— Enter Sam Smith at L. 

Sam S. — Wall, boys, did you think I'd got nabbed? Not 
yet ; but I did have to work purty sharp some of the time, 
and I don't want to go galing any more. I never found 
her till to-day, and I hurried right back for fear she would 
be here first. I don't blame you, Colonel, for wanting that 
gal; but I reckon I should rather get her by courtin', for 
she looks to me as if she would take care of No. 1, let her 
be where she would. I stopped at the door and listened 
just as long as I dared, and she read the letter to um all, 
and she is comin., 

Joe B. — Did you hear her say anything about the writ- 
ing? 

Sam S — Yes, the women folks all looked at it, and they 
said it was Walter Greenwood's writing. So I 'sposed he 
wrote letters to her, and that the Colonel's chance was 
purty slim. 

Fred S.— Not so slim after all. If she comes here to- 
night we will make her a prisoner, and to-morrow I will 
start for Longstreet's army, where I can find a chaplain 



33 

without any trouble. We will be married, and then go to 
England. I think by that time she will be humbled 
enough to behave herself and treat me as a devoted hus- 
band should be treated. Here's fun. [Drinks.] Let's all 
take something. [Drinks.] 

8am S. — I glory in your spunk, Colonel; but don't you 
think that plan is more easily made than executed? 

Fred S. — What is there to hinder carrying it out? 

Sam S. — I reckon Burnside will be in Knoxville next 
week, and if you start for Long-street's army you may get 
into Burnside's. If you do, I reckon you won't find any 
chaplain to do your splicin.' 

Fred S.— Don't you worry about me. Why don't you 
take somethink? [Drinks.] 

Jacob K. — Yah, das is so ; we all petter take sometings. 

[Drinks.] You vellers petter stop dish talk and make 
some arrangements pout meeting mit dose gal. 

Fred S. — Yes, boys, we must fix that up right off, for 
it is almost time she was here. 

Joe B. — It won't do for us all to stay here. She may 
see us before we see her, and then she won't come. I 
don't think she will fall in love with us any way. 

Fred S. — That's so, and I hardly know how to arrange 
.it. All hands had better take something. [Drinks.] 

Joe B. — Some of the boys ought to be on the lookout 
for Yanks. 

Fred S. — There are three gangs out now; but we had 
better have some boys clown on the Knoxville pike — we 
saw some Yanks there to-day. Sam, you take four or five 
of the boys, go down near the pike and stay there until I 
signal for you. Joe and I will stay here and take care of 
the gal. [Exit Sam and Jacob at R, 2 E.] Now Joe take 
something to keep your courage up. 

Steel drinks, Joe refuses— Steel begins to stagger as if drunk. 

Fred S. — Now we will hide behind these trees until she 
gets here. Then I will come out and make my business 
known. If she refuses, I will signal you, and you can 
rush out behind her, stop her mouth, and then we can 
manage her as we please. 

Exit all at E, 3 E— Enter Alice at L, 2 E. 

Alice. — This must be the place. No one here — I am 
not late. Can it be possible that I am deceived? I did 
not like the looks of those men down by the pike, and I 
a m afraid there is foul play intended. They did not see 
me, however, and do not know I am here. What shall I 



u 

do ? I dare not try to go back to-night, it is so far. I 
dare not cry for help, for fear of Guerrillas. Why did he 
not come as he said he would ? 

Enter Fred Steel at E, 3 E, advances cautiously behind Alice—She con- 
tinues talking. 

If he had wanted to see me, why didn't he come 
to Knoxville? He knew I was there, 1 have written him 
often. Oh, what shall I do? Why is he not here? 

Fred S — My dear, 1 am here ready to protect you. 

Alice. — Fred Steel, you here ? and have I been led from 
home by your fiendish plotting^? Lost, lost! just as I 
was about to see my vision of freedom realized, you cross 
my path to ruin all. Why do you torment me more 5 Are 
you not human, or have you lost all but the form of man? 
Leave me ; the very sight of you is loathesome. • Your 
foul breath is filled with rum and treason. Go, sir, I say, 
before I stain my hands w T ith blood. 

Fred S.— Alice, this is the only way I could manage to 
meet you. I have made up my mind to marry you. Once 
more I; ask you, will you be my wife ? 

Alice. — You know better than to ask me such a ques- 
tion. How dare you talk so to me? 

Fred S. — You talk very foolish, Miss Alice. I have a 
company of brave boys near by who will assist me if nec- 
essary. 

Alice. — Brave man ! Forge a letter, lead me far away 
from friends, and then tell me that you have a company 
of men to make me consent to marry you. Fred Steel, if 
you had the whole Kebel army at your command, I would 
not consent. [Fred Steel advances.] Don't you come 
near me, you drunken coward. 1 have a pistol, and can 
use it if necessary. I would shoot you as soon as 1 would 
a snake if it were not for shedding human blood. 

Fred S. — Come, come, Alice, don't talk so ; I don't want 
to hurt you. 

Alice. — Fred Steel, you need not try to frighten me, I 
am not at all afraid of you nor your whole gang. 

Fred S. — Young lady, I have fooled with you long 
enough. 

Whistles— Joe Blake enters at E, 3 E, and seizes Alice's arms— Alice 
makes resistance, 

Fred S. — Now, Miss Marks, we'll see whether you'll 
marry me or not. 

Alice. — Merciful heaven ! is it possible that you will 
stoop to such baseness ? But why not ? you murdered my 



mother, and even took the life Of your own brother. Yet, 
Fred Steel, i never will marry you. 

Fred S. — Got lots of grit, haven't you? Hope you will 
feel better by and by. 

Alice.— (Jh! that fatal letter; why was I so deceived? 
Oh, God J what have I done that I should suffer so? Why 
persecute me more? Let me die rather than fall into the 
power of such a base man. 

Fred S. — Shut up your head, young lady, or I will send 
you after your mother, 

Alice. — Do, for mercy sake, shoot me, and not torment 
*ne more. 

Eater two Guerrillas at R, 2 E. with Mr. Marks a prisoner. 

Alice. — Father, father J save me, 

Fred S. — Good, good.! now I can carry out my revenge. 

Marks. — Once more you have me in your power; ouce 
more you are sure of my blood. But there is a God in 
lieaven, and He will not see you prosper. Let me go to 
my daughter. 

Fred S. — Wait a few minutes, old man, and cool off a 
little. Here, take something to steady your nerves. 
^Offers Marks his canteen] 

Marks. — Stained with murder and treason as your soul 
is, you now seek comfort in rum. Detestable villain, were 
I free, I would kill you on the spot. 

Fred S.— Boys, bind him fast, and go back to your 
post, I will take care of him and his gal, [Guerrillas bind 
Mr. Marks, and exit at R, 2E.] Now, old man, one word 
with you and I am done. £A11 the time after this Steel 
shows signs of being drunk.] I sent for your gal to come 
and see me this evening, and she has embraced the oppor- 
tunity, but she don't care to embrace me ; in fact she 
treats jne very unbecomingly. But I am willing to let all 
pass if you will make her consent to marry me. What do 
you say ? 

Marks, — If I were not bound, you would not dare talk 
to me in that way. There is 'the girl, let her answ T er for 
herself. 

Fred S. — It's all fixed up between me and the gal. We 
are going to get married in the morning. 

Enter Sam Smith in haste at R, 2 E, 

Sam S. — Say, Colonel, you'll have to wind up this here 
courthf right off. A big squad of Yanks is comin' clown 
the pike, and that infernal Dutchman has run off to 'em, 
and took four or five fellows with him. 



Ered S. — All rigkt, Sam. get the horses saddled and 
have the boys ready as>soon as possible. [Exit Sam at 
R,, 2 E.] Now, old man, the quickest way i can get rid of 
7011 is to blow your brains out, and then I can get along 
with the gal ; so prepare yourself. 

Alice. — Murderer, you dare not harm him. If you 
shoot him, you must me. 

Ered S. — Shut up, or I will fix you both. 

Enter Clara Steel at L, 1 E. 

Clara. — Oh, Ered'l my brother, you here, and engaged 
in such work? Don't injure them. If you only knew how 
kind Alice has been to me since mother died, you would 
not. 

Eked S. — How came you here ? This is no place for 
you. 

Clara. — I came with Alice, to bear her company. 

Eked S. — You had better go out by that house (point- 
ing,) and stay a few moments - 7 I will come and see you 
soon. 

Clara. — Please let me stay with Alice ; she is my best 
friend. 

Ered S. — Go out there and stay, I tell you. [ Whistles? 
and enter Sam Smith at R.] Sam, go with my sister out 
by that house, and stay till I come. [Exit Sam with 
Clara, she crying.] Now, Old Marks, if you have any- 
thing to say, hurry up. [Points revolver at Marks.] 

Joe B. — [Releasing Alice and rushing up to Ered Steel 
and knocking Revolver out of his hand.] Fred Steely you 
dare not murder that man. [Pulls off false whiskers and 
hair.] 

Ered S.— What, Walter Greenwood the Union spy. 
Traitor in disguise, you too, shall die. 

Steel tries to get hold of his- dirk r but Greenwood seizes his arm ; they 
have a desperate scuffle, and finally Greenwood is overpowered aiso? 
thrown down at R— Steel holds- him by the throat with his left hand, 
draws his dirk with his right, and holds it high above his head as if 
to strike. 

Ered S- — Walter Greenwood, once we were friends, 
but when you crossed my path our friendship was at an 
end. Eilled with revenge I at first wreaked my vengeance 
3ii Old Marks and his family. I have longed to kill you, 
Mid now my revenge is near completion. Soon you will 
be food for dogs, and Old Marks and Alice shall follow 
f ou. I swear it 1 
klice draws a pistol and shoots Steel, then rushes to her father and ®m~- 

braces him.— Greenwood rises to his feet and comes to Alice with. 

outstretched arms. 



Waltkk G.— Alice, forgive me, I wrote that letter to 
induce Fred Steel and his villains to come here. They 
ure all captured now, and you are only surrounded by 
friends. [Scene may end here] 

Steel staggers to his feet— Blood streak .seen on Steel's forehead. 

Fred S.— Come on, boys, come on ; here is Old Marks' 
house; kill him ; no, let him be; seethe old woman; she 
has got blood on her face; she is coming this way ; go 
back, don't, don't touch me ; see, your blood is on my 
hands. Oh, kill those snakes, kill them ; I can't do any- 
thing, my hands are slimy with blood; don't let John 
come any nearer, he wants to kill me. See. the snakes 
there ; he is going to jump ; don't desert me, boys ; why 
don't you help me? Go back, old woman, you have fol- 
lowed me long enough, let me be. Oh, where can I go? 
I can't get away ; see, the demons are about me ; they are 
trying to carry me off; don't touch me. Boys, boys, "why 
don't you help, help ! help ? Go away ; see Satan has go"t 
me by the throat; take him off; get the blood off my 
hands. - [Falls heavily. 

Tableau— Death to Slavery. 



ACT. III. 

Scene FouRTtf.— Camp Scene, 

Col. Barker. — The time has arrived, boys, when you 
are to be free of the United States service, and this is our 
last day in camp. So enjoy yourselves as best you can ; 
we are not at the front, and no fear of a surprise. 

Pat O'D. — Faith, Colonel, and why didn't yes tell me 
that two years ago ? 

Col. B. — A good deal has been accomplished in that 
time, Patrick. We could not spare a man then, so have 
a good time now. We shall soon get our discharge 
papers, and in the morning we will be off for home. 

Jacob K.— Das ish very goot, I gets my discharge from 
the army.- of the United States. I don't gets my dis* 
charge from Sam Smit. I tinks I helps the Union poys 
petter ven I vas mit the South, but I don't likes the name. 



BaM Hannibal.— Guess' I won't go home; cley don't 
Want to see me down to Knoxville. I think I will stay 
Norf. I helped quelch dis heali 'oellion, and I's free now, 
and I think I better stay free. 

Pat. — How the clivil are ye a going to git a liviu'_up 
here? Ye betther go back. 

Sam — How I gwine to lib up heali? Why I's gwine to 
eat, mostly. How you git a libin? 

Tat. — Why work man, and earn money. 

Sam. — I\i r iiver run for de Congress, den I can eat and 
not work.. 

Jacob K. — Yah, you runs fast enough to catch das Con- 
gress or anything else mit two legs on him. 

Sam 1L — I runs fast enough to kotch you, you big sour 
krout you. You hain't been in this year army long nufl'to 
put in your lip, so you dry up. 

Rojbt. D — There Pat you and Jacob let Sam be, I want 
to see him dance a little or sing a song. 

All the boys say, "Yes, Sam, dance, we want to see you dance once 
more.' 1 — Sam dances or sings. 

Hobt. D.— * There, Patrick, don't you wish you could do 
that ? 

Pat. — Faith and I can ; but do ye think I'd stoop so low 
as to dance for private soldiers? 

ItOBT. D. — Do something, Patrick, either sing a song, 
dance, or do something to keep up with Sam. 

Pat sings, dances or makes a speech, 

Pat. — Bate that if ye can, and then I will try again. 
All the soldiers say, "Good, good, give us some more." 

Jacob K. — Veil, if all you vellers do so, I show you 
some tings. [Sings or dances. 

Capt.' Dunbar. — Colonel, I should think Marks and 
Greenwood would be back soon. You know the Adjutant 
General said the discharges were all made out ready for 
the regiment. 

Col. B. — I was thinking of that, Captain, and they 
must be here soon. But I suppose Greenwood had to 
step in and see Miss Marks a few minutes. You know he 
has been here only a week, and hasn't seen her more than 
fifty or sixty times. But Greenwood has been a faithful 
soldier, and I think it was a very wise idea to have Miss 
Marks come North. 

Capt. D. — Walter Greenwood is every inch a soldier. 
I love him as a brother, and I must confess, Colonel, that 
it is hard for me to part with him. But to-night is our 



last, and I wish he would come, for L want to talk with him. 
By the way, Colonel, did you know that Walter was going 
to marry Miss Mirks as soon as he is mustered out? 

Col. 13. — Yes, Captain, and I was in hopes he would 
conclude to be married to-day, so we could attend the 
wedding. 

Enter Walter Greenwood and Mr. Ma rk's at L, 3 E. 

Walter G- — Colonel, I am a little late, but I believe a 
satisfactory explanation can be given. Mr. Marks went 
with me to the Adjutant General's office, and you know I 
always like to tell big stories, so I told him about Mr. 
Marks' adventures during the war, giving him a detailed 
account of what he had done, what he had s uttered, what 
he had lost ; how his family had been murdered — all about 
it. The General asked us to wait a few minutes, when 
he gave Mr. Marks a beautiful letter of commendation. I 
tell you, Colonel, it paid for waiting 

Col. B. — Yes, Greenwood, you are entirely excusable. 
The General has only done Mr. Marks justice; he 
deserves it all. 

Walter G. — Colonel, I will return soon. (Exit at L, 
3 E. 

Marks. — Colonel, I ask for no words of praise. If I 
have been of any help in crushing this rebellion, I shall 
receive my reward day by day. Colonel, here are the dis- 
charge papers. (Hands Colonel a package. 

Col. B. — Thanks, Mr. Marks; I almost hate to take 
them, for they .are the instruments which will sever our 
band, and separate us for life. We shall see each other, 
but never again be united as a regiment. Adjutant, please 
give these to the men. 

Adjutant takes papers and gives each man an envelope. 

Sam. — Massa Adjtint, hab you clone gone forgot all 
about dis chile? I tink I might hab a paper too. 

Adj't. — Sam, you are not an enlisted soldier, although 
you have been faithful to every trust, and Mr. Marks tells 
me that you were of great service to him in East Tennes- 
see. You have much to feel proud of. Sam, you are now 
free. You will never be a slave anymore. All the money 
you now earn is your own, and you have no master to 
take it away from you. 

Sam. — Massa Adjtint, den I can earn money and buy 
farderand mudder from ole Massa Brown. 

Adj't. — Sam, your father and mother are free. Every 



40 

^ in the South is free, and can now enjoy the same 
rights their masters do. J J me 

A ? J ''f — Tnati srathera difficult question, Sam and r 
think the best thing for you to do is to give up part of 

blac A k? _MaSSa ' h ° W CUn 1 CaI1 mySelf Brown when & 

Adj't.— 0, that is your name that is all. 

1 at.— Samuel, would yes be afther tormintin* the 11 ft* 
out of theAdjitint? Didn't I tell yes a™ § time Ifo 
tla yes was tree? and I was in for the war? Now*! 
have got my character in black and white, showing that 
the colored troops is all free entirely. 

Jacob K -Das ish all right, Sam; you iust go home 
nut me and eats two dree hundred kegs lager peer and 
drinks whole lots switzer kase und schwafz bmid, un 
pe one man vas pig shust like me. 

PAT.-And Dutchy has got his character too, which 
snows that the Governmmt don't show no difference twixt 
a white man, a Dutchman and a nagur. 

Mari >£-— Colonel > I nave one more request to make of 
you. We are now citizens, but I feel that we are under 
your command until we break camp. 

C °. L " , B .',~ Any reasonable request of your's shall be 
granted, if in my power. 

Marks.— Colonel, I have been with your regiment onlv 
a part ot its term of service, but I have learned to love 

IZZ Zt l ? '"■ ' ?l a khKl P rovid ™ ce your regiment was 
instiumental m delivering my only daughter from the 
jaws ol the secession serpent, also in saving my life 
Capt. Greenwood has made an arrangement with my 
daughter during the past week which will soon terminate 
m their marriage. My request, Colonel, is that thev be 
married here in camp. 

Col. B,— The very desire of my heart, my dear sir. I 
have not seen Miss Alice since the night she was rescued 
irom the Guerrillas, and never had the pleasure of her 
acquaintance. 



41 

Marks. — I will at once go and see her, and, if I can, 
persuade her to come. I shall soon return. (Exit at L, 3 E. 

Col. B. — Boys, while Mr. Marks is away, let us have 
one more good old army song. 

One or more army song here sung by the soldiers. After the singing, 
Colonel give command, "Attention." Enter Marks, Walter G., and 
Alice, L: 3 E. 

Col. B. — Carry arms ; present arms ; carry arms ; order 
arms. 

Marks.— Officers and men, please allow me to introduce 
my daughter, Alice. 

Colonel salutes Miss Marks. Soldiers salute with right hand. 

Col. B.— Comrades, we are about to separate and return 
to our homes. There we shall find happy friends to meet 
us. Once more we are to, engage in the pursuits of civil 
life. We are comparatively few of the brave boys who 
first went to the front. Where are the rest? Some sleep- 
ing their last sleep on Southern soil where they fell in 
battle ; others are sleeping beneath the very shadow of 
the prison pens where they have died by inches ; some 
have returned home maimed for life, and others have died 
of disease. We have much for which to be thankful, and 
as we return to our homes let us return thanks that "no 
bugle at to-morrow's dawn shall awaken us to a reveille 
of blood." 

Marks. — Comracle^I have much that I wish to say, but 
I will not take up your time. I have lived to see this 
happy day ; lived to see my children safe from the very 
jaws of death; lived to see the North and South again 
united. (Takes Alice's and Greenwood's hands.) Walter 
Greenwood, I freely give you my daughter's hand. Be 
true and faithful to her; and as the North and South have 
been united by fire and blood, so may you be united by the 
fire of love and affection, constantly thinking of Him who 
gave his blood for us all, and who proclaimed to the whole 
work! : "Peaee on earth; good-will toward man." 

Alice.— Officers and soldiers, I can only thank you for 
your timely help to me on that dreadful night when I was 
about to suffer even worse than death. You have all suf- 
fered much in this terrible rebellion ; but don't think all the 
people South were traitors to the clear old flag, which 
now so proudly floats over a rennitecl country. Far from 
it; many, very many have died because of their loyalty ; 
and as you return to your homes carry with you sympathy 
for them all, and remember with pride the Loyal Moun- 
taineers of East Tennessee ! 

Tableau. "Union of Hearts and Union of Hands"— Curtain. 



ii..WiS.K.51L 0F CONGRESS 

■Hi, 

016 102 877 & 



